


somewhere with the wind

by writtenndust



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenndust/pseuds/writtenndust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In nine hundred years of time and space, he'd never had a home before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somewhere with the wind

The Doctor wiped the stray tear from his eye, his hearts all a-flutter as he looked out onto the snow-dusted street from the house of TARDIS-blue. The symbolism wasn’t lost on him between the house and the box. For once, her glowing golden light stood steady and unblinking across the street. She didn’t call for him or beckon him on another adventure. He looked upon her with a gentle sigh. She was content.

His fingertips were still damp as he turned, closing the door behind him and locking out the chill. He could smell all sorts of Christmassy delights; mince-pies, ham, turkey and something that smelt deliciously like gingerbread. He could hear the laughter of his Ponds in the room beyond, though he remained rooted to the spot.

Home.

_“We’ve set a place for you.”_ Rory had said.

_“Because we always do.”_ Amy had said.

In nine-hundred years of time and space, he’d never had a home before. Or at least, he’d never felt like it. He had planets and cities and a million-billion stars. He had people to visit, to help, to save; but he’d never had this. 

He was tentative to take the first few steps into the home of his Ponds; safe and warm and so very festive. The staircase was decorated with leafy garlands, glittering with Christmas lights and there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the kitchen doorframe (he made a mental note not to get caught under it with Amy). He could hear their voices beyond; over the sound of a mellow Christmas tune. A bell chimed and he heard Amy’s squeal of delight as he inched his way closer; terrified that it was all a dream and he was about to wake up on the seventh moon of Andros, with a Cyberman’s hand inside his brain.

He blinked a few times to clear those negative thoughts, before pushing all nine-hundred-year-old-timelord-with-abandonment-issues, insecurities, aside and confidently strode through into the kitchen.

The image that awaited him practically knocked him to the floor. 

The table was decorated in reds and golds with rich green napkins and Christmas lights hanging from above. Over in the far corner of the living-room, stood a tall Christmas tree covered in glittering balls and an over-abundance of tinsel; the floor around was littered with presents piled a mile high. The air was thick with cinnamon and cloves and ham. Amy stood at the kitchen counter, marvelling over her perfectly cooked leg of ham and Rory stood directly ahead of him, smiling with a glass of hot cider in his hand.

“Merry Christmas, Doctor.” The man smiled, patting the Timelord on the shoulder as he stepped over to Amy to help her carve up their dinner. The Doctor was about to respond in kind, when he realized what Rory’s movement had revealed.

There – at the head of the table where a bowl of mashed potatoes sat steaming up the room with the smell of garlic and chives; and a glass of red-wine rested; decorated with the rubiest shade of red lipstick on its rim – sat River Song. 

“Hello Sweetie.” She smirked, raising her glass as if in toast. 

He couldn’t help his broad smile and she couldn’t help the bubble of rich laughter that floated up and out of her, filling the already joyous house with the most melodious sound he’d ever heard. He dashed around the table and River had just enough time to rise to her feet before his arms were around her and her hair was in his mouth as he laughed.

The Ponds grinned from the kitchen counter; Rory’s arm around Amy’s waist and their cheeks rosy with happiness and pride. “We forgot to mention,” Rory’s voice pulled them reluctantly apart and the Doctor turned them, still grinning widely with River tucked securely under his arm. “We always set a place for River too.”

“It was nice of you to both turn up this year.” Amy smirked and the Doctor rolled his eyes. 

“I was dead, Pond.”

“Not for real.” She chastised. “And besides, you should have just showed up last year anyway. The custard went bad because there was no one here to eat it. Not to mention, River was _so_ moody.”

“I was not.” River gasped and the Doctor laughed when Rory made a face that indicated his agreement with his wife, not his daughter. River slapped the Doctor’s chest in retaliation.

“HEY!” He shrieked and River pointed up at him.

“That’s for taking their side.”

“I didn’t take a side, River!”

“You laughed.” She practically pouted and he found it incredibly endearing.

“Sorry dearest.”

“Alright!” Rory clapped his hands together before ushering Amy in the direction of the dining table. “I think it’s time to eat.”

They all took their seats – River sat back down in her spot with the Doctor to her left. Amy sat to her right and at the other end of the table; Rory rested the steaming ham down in front of him before taking his spot directly across from River. He winked at her and she grinned as she dipped her head and reached for the Doctor’s hand. Their fingers entwined on top of the table, between the roast vegetables and the remnants of a bon-bon.

The Doctor looked around the table. It was filled to the very edges with holiday treats and he smiled as he noticed the look Rory gave Amy as she whispered something in River’s ear. Both women giggled and River chanced the Doctor a glance before covering her mouth with her hand and sobering up.

It was Christmas Eve and they were all literally glowing. Amy’s cheeks were fuller and Rory’s hair was tamer. River looked as wild as ever, and her eyes glittered as she laughed; her smile broad and beautiful as he squeezed her hand.

“Ah, my glorious Ponds.” He leaned over and pulled River’s hand to his lips as another treacherous tear escaped his eye; that kind of humany-wumany tear that appeared in times of such uncontainable joy.

He didn’t wipe it away. 

He was home.

The End.


End file.
